Entries in gift guide
(18)

“I can’t even imagine living in Manhattan ever again after moving to Brooklyn."

Yeah, you know the type. The Brooklyn Snob is a common breed with a penchant for all things local, organic, and Kings County-centric. Don’t know what to gift your BK lovers this year? Follow this guide to Brooklyn snobbery and you’ll be set.

They won't stop talking about the intensity of their Bikram yoga class, or how hard it is to break in a pair of running shoes, or why eating energy goo is totally normal. If you're not sure what to get that spin-class-loving, all-day-hiking, fitness fanatic on your list, we got a few gift ideas that will leave them happy and at least a 10K away from you.

When I was a kid, I wanted a pet so badly that I'd cry to my mother every night, “PLEAAAASSE, CAN WE GET A CAT?" or "PLEEAAAAAASSE, CAN WE GET A DOG?” As a woman whose weekly cleaning rituals included things like vacuuming the vacuum, she wasn't much of a pet person, per se. Gurl did not want to deal with any dander in her motherfucker house. But eventually she gave in and got us… a bird.

I know what you’re thinking. A bird is not a pet. It’s a caged animal. You can’t “pet” a bird (well you can, but you'll get pecked). Regardless, I learned to love that bird. And now, all these years later, I can finally call myself a true pet owner. I’m going 6 years strong with my Yorkie, Peanut, and couldn’t imagine life without this bitch.

How does this all of this nonsensical storytelling qualify me to write a gift guide for pet lovers? Well, for one, it means I spend a lot of time in pet stores. Two, it means I’m damn good at paying attention to small animals. And three… well… no one else wanted the assignment, so here you go. Enjoy, suckers!

When it comes to traditions, stuffing your face & drowning your sorrows is not only a holiday tradition, it’s a Park Slope tradition. We here in Park Slope love consumption.

With that in mind, this holiday season we’ve assembled a delectable group of gifts that’ll ensure that the foodies & drunks in your life will shut up about their latest gustatory obsession for a brief moment. Enjoy it while you can, because by the time 2013 rolls around, they won’t be able to shut up about the way you helped feed their obsession this holiday season. Bon Appetit/Salut!

Growing up, your mother could scream and yell at you all day, and yet, "Wait until your father comes home" was the only effective threat she could actually come up with. Why? Because you knew damn well that your father would come home from another long, soul-crushing workday and not want to deal with whatever bratty tantrum you were having that was making your mother crazy that day.

He walked through the door, laid down the law, then scarfed down a late dinner while reading the newspaper. Within 30 minutes of getting home, he was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly over the evening news, while you were sitting up in your room, "thinking about what you've done."

Right now, if you take a moment to think about what you've done, all the grief you put your poor father though—the bad attitude, the drinking, the piercings, the phone calls from the principal, the pregnancy scare—you'd realize it's a miracle that your father didn't hang himself from the tree house he lovingly built for you well before you turned into an ungrateful teenager and an absent adult.

This year, it's time to get your father something that will help you atone for all of your douchey mistakes.